The Perks of Being an Introvert
by TheAbsoluteNordork
Summary: A short story on how DenNor came to be... [Pairing: Denmark x Norway, canonverse.]


**the perks of being an introvert**

* * *

Norway knew Denmark loved him.

He said it at least a thousand times per day and had done so since he had first discovered the small Norwegian shivering in the snow. Of course after using it to such an excessive amount the three words had lost its intended emphasis and meaning- it was now just as casual a phrase and said in the same tone as one may comment on the weather.

At first Norway had been embarrassed, confused, hopeful even. Nevertheless, as the days turned into months which turned into centuries he learnt to deal with it; to simply roll his eyes and automatically say; "I know."

Not once had Norway reciprocated this term.

He was much more old fashioned; preferring to save it for people who had a very special place in his heart and who he could wholeheartedly say "I love you, too" to. Currently only one person was worthy of that phrase and that was- begrudgingly to the boy- his beloved younger brother, Iceland. Not to say that Iceland didn't love him too- he did- he just preferred to be subtle and infrequent. A reward system for Norway, if you will. If Norway did something for Iceland then the Icelander would reward him with a smile and maybe even a quick hug. The two were content on this system so neither had bothered to object to it.

Norway did love Denmark too. How could he not after so many years? Norway called it a different type of love- not as strong as his feelings towards Iceland but not weak either. He was always acutely aware of it though and watched it in case it _did_ progress into something more, but like every other emotion he bottled it up and stored it away in the back of his mind where he shelved the rest of his emotions- keeping his face blank and leaving these emotions for his mind to have the pleasure of experiencing.

But he could sort those out another time- maybe in a millennium or two.

Right now he just wanted to focus on his book.

The book itself wasn't entirely fascinating or moving, mostly consisting of various magical mantra's and charms that he could show England and Romania at their 'Annual Magic Meeting'. It was childish and simple, yes, but Norway rather enjoyed it. England and Romania weren't entirely bad and could be amusing to be around.

The atmosphere in the room around the Norwegian was calming and homely; reminding him of times before there were proper houses and thick snow provided a permanent blanket on the ground. A fire crackled and hissed heartily in front of him, spitting embers onto the soft rug in front of it. The sofa Norway was curled up on faced the fire and also gave a perfect view of the Nordic winter through the tall and ostentatious windows. The Norwegian did like it here and greatly preferred it to his own home.

Of course he constantly dismissed the thought that he lived with Denmark. He didn't- he was just on an extended visit. Denmark's house was cluttered and warm. Norway's house was cold and clean. It only made sense; or at least in his mind it did.

Denmark didn't mind. He enjoyed the company, especially since Iceland only stayed for a few weeks before going back to his own house for the remaining year and since Finland and Sweden had gotten their own house too. Finland didn't live with Sweden either- he was just on an extended visit like Norway. The fact that they had that loveable brat and that moody brat only further contradicted that statement, but Norway wasn't in any position to speak on that matter.

He let out a low and content sigh, settling down underneath the blankets. Everything smelt of Denmark here. It was pleasant- a scent of sweet pine needles and pastries. If there was one thing that Norway liked the smell of, that was probably it. Now that he thought about it... Maybe it was the smell not the house that comforted Norway. Maybe it was the house not the smell. Maybe he'd never know.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs caught his attention. That would be Denmark having finally woken up. Sure enough a rugged Dane stumbled into the front room and glanced lazily around. Denmark and Norway's friendship had long passed the stage where they cared what they look or even smelt like around the other, so Norway wasn't surprised to see the Dane with a stubbly jaw, messy wisps of hair limp and in his underwear. The Norwegian didn't even bother to look up at him when Denmark staggered forward and leaned over the back of the couch to press a kiss to Norway's temple.

"G'mornin'," he said sleepily, standing back up and making his way towards the kitchen.

"Good afternoon," Norway corrected flatly. "It's too late for breakfast. You'll have to settle for lunch."

Denmark groaned and trudged back in, throwing himself face-first onto the other sofa. "Tired..." he mumbled.

"Then sleep."

"Don't wanna..."

"Then don't complain."

Norway was far too used to his antics to pay attention to him, instead shifting and burrowing into the soft fabric. "Go get yourself cleaned up, we have a meeting later."

Denmark's noise of annoyance was clearly heard and it made the corners of Norway's mouth tilt up in amusement.

Denmark turned himself to face the small Norwegian, a somewhat similar glint to when a child was about to ask an innocent question subtly evident in his deep blue eyes. "Hey, Norge?"

"Mm?"

"Love ya."

"Mm."

It went silent for a good while. The only sound heard was the crackle of the fire and the occasional rustling as Norway turned a page with his forefinger. Just as he was about to ask why the Dane hadn't moved, Denmark spoke again.

"Norge?"

"Yes?"

"Love ya."

"Ok."

Silence.

"... Nor?"

"What?" He responded, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Love ya."

"I know," Norway replied, becoming bored of the futile exchange. "What's your point?"

"... Nothin'." With that, the Dane rolled off of the sofa and stood up, moving back towards the staircase. Though as he placed one foot on the stair, he turned his head to the Norwegian. "After th' meetin'... Can I talk to ya?"

A crease appeared between Norway's eyebrows. "I suppose."

"Ok," the Dane responded and began up the stairs.

Norway frowned, no longer focusing on the book but on the strange behaviour of the Dane. What was wrong with him...? With a sigh, Norway shook his head and began reading again, attempting to focus on the Norwegian words printed on the pages. "Ok."

* * *

 **A/N:** DISCLAIMER: I do not own Hetalia or any of the canon characters that have been created. They all belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Now that that's over and done with- here's a short and sweet DenNor fic. I love DenNor and it is without doubt my OTP, so I hope you like it and can share the beauty of the gay agenda with me.


End file.
